


Haunted

by JacobsHunter



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacobsHunter/pseuds/JacobsHunter
Summary: He didn't know what to do next. Or how to stop blaming himself.





	Haunted

Sean sat at the table, a bottle in one hand, his other hand scratching at the splintering wood. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to be alone. They were never exclusive, but he had been trying to work up the courage to ask her to move to that level. Even if he wasn’t the man of her dreams, she was the woman of his.

But he’d never get the chance now.

“Sean,” Hosea called softly, settling on the stool across the table. “What’s on your mind, son? Better to talk than try and drown it.” The red head sighed and took a long swig.

“I was supposed to go with Bill and Micah and Arthur,” he began. “But I was so hungover, I couldn’ shoot straight. Karen said she’d handle it, that she’d convince them Grays that she could do the job.” His lip began to tremble. “I knew she could. Was no question about it. She’s the toughest woman in camp aside from Grimshaw.”

“But no one could have known that the Grays were on to us.”

Sean closed his eyes tightly. Crying was weakness. At least to these men it was. His da always made time for emotions, but here, there was never time. Even the women had to hold it in and deal with their emotions in private. And this was Hosea, for fucks sake. He couldn’t let the man see how badly he was hurting.

“You were sweet on her,” Hosea pointed out. “We could all see it. She hung the moon and stars for you. And she was sweet on you, in her own way.”

“It should ‘ave been me,” Sean finally blurted, his tear-filled eyes meeting the older man’s gaze. “I should ‘ave been on that job. Not her. It should be me buried in that field, not her. I was born into this life. I knew from the time I was a wee child that I would die in this life. She wasn’t. She still had the chance to get out.” Hosea shook his head.

“She’d have fallen completely into the bottle, and you’re at risk of doing just that,” he argued gently. “And I don’t blame you. After Bessie died, I spent a year in the bottle. Didn’t really do me any good, but that didn’t stop me. And I know I might not be able to stop you, but I have to try.”

Sean had to look away again. The strongest man he knew aside from his own father, and yet here he was, admitting that even he had his weak moments.

“There’s no weakness in mourning, son. There’s no shame in missing someone. Karen was your Bessie, anyone could see that. Don’t hold all that pain inside. It’ll wind up killing you, Sean.”

He closed his eyes again, a few tears sliding down his face. He didn’t want to completely break down. Not in camp. Not with everyone watching. He just wanted to go set up camp somewhere else, alone, and drink the pain away.

“Sean, I know what you’re thinking. Come on. Let’s you and I go ride for a bit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been riding for hours. He wasn’t even really sure if they were still in Lemoyne anymore. And he wasn’t sure how they got where they were aside from on horseback. But Hosea’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“It’s getting late, Sean,” the older man pointed out. “Why don’t you get us a rabbit or two? I know you’re good with those throwing knives.”

Sean nodded, keeping his eyes peeled as he pulled out one of the knives. He felt so… disconnected. As if he was simply going through the motions. Nothing felt real. It almost felt like a bad dream. He was vaguely aware of the cold, sharp steel in his fingers, of the beast beneath him breathing as they rode slowly.

He spotted a rabbit, and raised his hand, ready to send the knife into the small critter’s skull.

But then he stopped. That rabbit was as oblivious to him as Karen was to the gunman. It wasn’t even aware that it was being hunted. Had not a clue that it was about to die. His hand started shaking, and his heart raced as he stared at the defenseless animal.

He couldn’t do it.

“Sean,” Hosea called. “Sean, it’s okay. It’s just a rabbit.” The Irishman lowered his hand, his eyes filling with tears again.

“It’s not even aware we’re ‘ere,” he muttered. “It’s just goin’ about life like nothing’s wrong. I… I can’t. I can’t, Hosea. All I see is my Karen, an’… an’…”

“And we’re the only ones up here. It’s okay to weep. It’s okay to mourn. No one else has to know. Just let yourself feel, son.”

He closed his eyes tightly, and slowly began to let the emotion overtake him. She was really gone. He would never hear her voice again. Or see her smile. She’d never call him a fool in that beautiful laughing voice she had. His heart shattered, and his whole body shook with each sob.

Every person he ever loved completely was gone, and Karen’s death was his fault.

“There, there. Just let it out, Sean. I know it hurts. Trust me. But holding it in is worse.”

“How,” Sean forced out, meeting Hosea’s eyes. “How can I jus’ keep going? How do you keep going?’

He felt so empty. So alone. The guilt was overwhelming, and he wasn’t sure if he could even face going back to camp. Knowing that she wouldn’t be there, knowing that he would wake up alone, it made his chest ache.

“You take it one breath at a time, even when you feel like you’re suffocating. Then you take it one hour at a time, no matter how long that hour feels. And then one day. And one week. Until you eventually find that you can live with the pain. You’ll still have days that are harder than others. But you’ve always got a family around you, Sean. You’ve always got the gang. And you’ll never forget her, I know you won’t.”

He wiped away the tears, nodding slowly.

“I want her horse,” he pleaded. “I know it’s stupid an’ I’m a fool. I’ll sell mine if I must, but jus’ let me ‘ave something of hers.” Hosea’s hand gently gripped his arm.

“That is not stupid, son,” he soothed. “It’s perfectly reasonable to want to keep something of hers.”

“I jus’… I feel like it’s my fault. I should ‘ave been there. An’ all I can see is… is…” He bit his lip and looked away. He shouldn’t have insisted on seeing her one last time. But he didn’t believe Micah. Who would have? And now, all he could see was her golden hair matted with blood.

“It’s not your fault, Sean. You didn’t know. I didn’t know. We didn’t know. Not until it was too late. I won’t say that you should feel lucky to be alive, because you may never feel lucky. But do not blame yourself for something beyond your control. It won’t bring her back.”

He nodded, staring at the ground.

“You aren’t alone in this. You’re never alone. You’ve got me. And Dutch. There’s plenty of us who understand, or at least will try to understand. Let’s set up camp, and get you through this. I can only afford to bury one child today.”


End file.
